


Snippets of a Domesticated King

by RiverEagle



Series: Donnabelle [5]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Father-Daughter Relationship, Female Bilbo, Female Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Nightmares, Parenthood, Rule 63
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-29
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-06-05 05:12:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6691036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiverEagle/pseuds/RiverEagle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of one-shots surrounding the months and years after the Battle of the Five Armies.  Set past Chapter 13 of "Donnabelle"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to Calenthion, who inspired me to complete my story “Donnabelle” and helped to translate the Khuzdul I used in that work with the help of Nikolai. She also gave me the verses I used in that to help me overcome my writer’s block.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin struggles to deal with the aftermath of the Battle of the Five Armies, and is surprised that Kili is coming to him for comfort.

Thorin Oakenshield woke in a cold sweat.  The last six weeks, he dreamt of the final moments of his sweet Donnabelle and their unborn child.  Each time he had the dream, it was different and yet they always ended in the same way: Donnabelle was run through by Azog.

That night was the worst of them by far.  Instead of Donnabelle heading up to Ravenhill on her own, it was _him_ that had gone up alone.  Dwalin, Fíli and Kíli had followed behind him.  Once they had arrived at Azog’s overlook, he had sent Fíli and Kíli to scout ahead as he and Dwalin fought off goblin mercenaries.  That was when Donnabelle appeared in his dream, telling him of the second army from the North.  He’d decided to retreat, yet before they could, Azog had appeared with his hand around the cuff of Fíli’s neck.

Thorin remembered he’d been in denial when Azog plunged his blade through the blond-haired prince’s chest.  After witnessing his nephew and heir die, there was only one thing on his mind.  Where was his younger nephew?  He remembered the battle was fierce and he’d ended up fighting Azog himself.  And he lost.  Just before Azog’s blade pierced him, ending his bloodline, Donnabelle appeared over him.  She sacrificed her life on the Pale Orc’s blade so that he might live.  The last thing he remembered from his nightmare was her cold, dead eyes staring up at him as he froze over her body, denying that she was truly gone.

That was when he woke and sat straight up in bed.  Looking around the darkened chamber, he knew he was alone.  He choked back a sob and flopped back down on the bed.

“Thorin?” a soft voice called from outside his bedchamber.  It sounded a lot like Kíli.

He rubbed his face and swung his legs out from under his covers.  He pulled on the sleep pants he’d kicked off at some point before he padded to the door.  Pulling it open, he blearily looked over the ruffled appearance of his younger nephew.  “What?” the king growled.

Kíli, with his hair mussed from sleep, did not look up at the older dwarf as he posed his question.  “May I sleep with you tonight?”

Thorin blinked and then frowned.  The wording of the question was _not_ something he was used to from Kíli.  The boy was never that polite or coherent at the best of times, and to be so after a nightmare sent warning bells off in Thorin’s mind.

“You usually go to Fíli.”  The uncle rubbed his eyes and took in his nephew’s appearance in once more.  The younger dwarf shifted uncomfortably and didn’t bring his gaze up.  Okay, something was _definitely_ not right about this situation.  Kíli had never been afraid of asking for something, or from seeking comfort from either his brother or uncle throughout their journey.  But for him to suddenly be nervous and unable to look the elder dwarf in the eye was unnerving Thorin.  And then, Thorin noticed the small, elflike ear hidden beneath the dark hair that belonged to Kíli.

Wait… what?  He frowned again, trying to process what his eyes were telling him.  The dwarf in front of him was _not_ Kíli.  But…  Thorin swallowed hard and stepped back from his open door.  He beckoned the boy into his chambers.  “Always,” the uncle rumbled.  He wanted to pull the boy into his arms, just to reassure himself that it wasn’t a dream.

Kíli, who was _not_ Kíli, stepped into the room and bit his lower lip.  Thorin closed the door and took another look at the boy’s ears, and there was no mistaking the elflike shape.  Was this really _Donnabelle_?  He didn’t say anything as he made his way back to his bed.  It wasn’t going to be _any_ body else.  Yet, still, his sleep-deprived mind couldn’t really grasp it.  Why was she hiding, and only now coming to him as Kíli?  And as he allowed his gaze to drift over her and her disguise, he could pick up that she would not be able to answer any of his demands that night.

Lifting the covers up, he crawled under them and then patted the empty space beside him.  Kíli hesitantly made his way over to the bed and climbed in beside the broader dwarf.  Thorin sighed.  He wrapped his arm around the smaller boy’s waist and pulled said dwarf closer to his own chest.

“Get some sleep, Kíli.”  The name felt wrong coming from his lips, but Thorin guessed that that night, Donnabelle wasn’t ready to face her actual name.  “We’ll talk in the morning.”

The questions that thundered through Thorin’s mind as he held the small hobbit close were: “How did she survive Ravenhill?  Why was she hiding from them?”  He breathed in through his nose as he remembered the mithril coat he’d found only a few short days before.  The coat he’d given Donnabelle before the battle; the one they hadn’t found since she’d disappeared.  That probably explained the first question, but still.  Why _was_ she in hiding?

He shifted closer to the smaller dwarf beside him and pulled Kíli deeper into his embrace.  It would wait until the morning.

Thorin did not mean to fall asleep again.  He wasn’t expecting to after the nightmare he had.  But for some reason, knowing that Donnabelle had somehow survived and had come to him for comfort (though disguised as Kíli) gave him some comfort himself.  It was enough reassurance to his troubled mind that it chased away any further nightmares that might have plagued him that night and allowed him to fall asleep.

The next morning, there was no sign of her visit except for the lingering scent of something uniquely Donnabelle.


	2. Courting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is set a few days after the end of chapter 14 of 'Donnabelle'.
> 
> How does a dwarf go about courting a hobbit that he's already married to?  
> Thorin finds out... and is completely clueless as he prepares dinner.

“Balin.”

The dwarf in question looked up at his name and frowned. He and Thorin were busy working on some trade agreements with the men of Dale in Thorin’s private office. By the look on the king’s face, whatever they were about to discuss would be of a more personal nature than trade agreements. The snowy-haired dwarf sat back in his chair and took the time to study his king. “Yes, laddie?”

“How would a dwarf court a hobbit?”

Balin blinked a few times and sat straighter. “Excuse me?”

Thorin looked up from the report he was reading. “Don’t make me repeat it.” And by the tone, Balin knew the dwarf was serious.

“You’re married to her.”

“I know that.” His tone was short and was filled with sarcasm. “You and I both know the road was no place to follow proper courting traditions.”

Balin stroked his beard as he thought about it. Of course, Thorin was right. He had followed the traditions of the dwarrow and had wed himself to Donnabelle on the road, yet their minds were on other things rather than following the full courting traditions of either the dwarves or the hobbits. Now, though, once they had learnt that their burglar had survived the Battle of the Five Armies (though she was very must still recovering), Thorin’s mind turned to other pursuits. Including, it would seem, following the more traditional courting stages of a relationship.

“Honestly, I am at a loss at what to tell you. I know little about hobbits and their courting traditions. Perhaps there would be a book in Erebor’s libraries that could help?”

Thorin ran a hand over his face. “I tried. There’s nothing there about hobbits.”

“Have you tried asking her?”

Thorin blinked and raised an eyebrow at his long-time friend and advisor. “What about flowers? Don’t hobbits like flowers?” was the next suggestion.

“Unless I want to offend her, I think not.”

“Offend?”

“She told me a bit about the language of flowers Hobbits use at Beorn’s. Although…” Thorin trailed. He thought back to all the times he had stopped and spoken with Donnabelle about the different flowers she’d dried and pressed into the pages of her journal. The majority of the time, he had been happy just to hear her talk to him that he forgot most of what she’d told him about them. “I do remember her telling me that her favourite was a forget-me-not. And that was since she met me.”

“So unless it’s forget-me-nots, no flowers?”

Thorin gave his advisor a half smile and shook his head. It wasn’t the right time of year for forget-me-nots. But Balin’s next question stopped the dwarf king short.

“Aren’t you forgetting she grew up with Frérin?”

“And?” And suddenly, Thorin registered the question. Of course, Donnabelle would know and probably appreciate a more dwarven courting gift rather than have him bumbling through and trying to work out the meaning of each flower he’d want to give Donnabelle. He frowned again. What would he craft for her that would show her his love and devotion? “Thank you, Balin.”

**S.O.A.D.K.**

Thorin was still at a loss of what he could gift to Donnabelle three days after his discussion with Balin. Fíli and Kíli tried to be helpful by suggesting different things and they did manage to find a few of the family beads. Thorin was most grateful for the ones they had found that had belonged to his mother before they had left Erebor. When the boys asked why Thorin was surprised and pleased about those particular beads, the dwarf had told them they had belonged to their grandmother and had been a courting gift from their grandfather.

Other than the beads, though, the King under the Mountain could not think of any suitable gift he could craft for his own wife. He knew that he couldn’t give her anything that was blatantly large or ‘un-useful’. After all, Donnabelle was very practical and didn’t require a lot of worldly things for her to be content. Thorin _had_ learnt enough about his wife that she would _not_ appreciate being encased in jewels or gems, no matter how much he wanted to shower those types of gifts on her. And he had learnt hobbits valued growing things over the gems dwarrow were drawn to.

His eyes widened. That was it! Hobbits loved growing things. And as of yet, there wasn’t a proper place for Donnabelle to have a garden. _That’s_ something he could give her. Her own garden. And if he worked it right, he could get one of the caravans from Ered Luin to stop off in the Shire for some seedlings for his hobbit to cultivate.

And maybe, just maybe, a garden could help Donnabelle heal.

Thorin smiled to himself as he entered his quarters that night. He’d start on the garden first thing in the morning. The fireplace was lit, yet there was no one around to greet him. But that was okay. Donnabelle was most likely in the library with Ori. His stomach rumbled. If he were hungry, his wife would also be hungry when she returned. So he thought he should try and find something for dinner. Just for the two of them. The dark-haired king smiled to himself and moved to his bedchamber. Sometimes, he preferred to be alone in the evenings or simply share them with his wife. It actually gave them a chance to get to know the other better, instead of trying to compete with as many as eighteen or twenty other dwarves, if Bombur’s horde showed up to the meals or if Gloin’s wife and son appeared.

He knew Donnabelle loved the company to pieces and saw them all as brothers. Yet she also preferred the quiet evenings most of the time. Especially after that first night she’d returned from the ‘dead’. She had bravely sat through the company’s questions and informed them of the things they needed to know. Yet since then, she’d limited her interactions to only a few people at a time. And mainly to areas she knew the company frequented: the library or the royal wing.

So without really thinking about it, Thorin stripped himself of his royal clothing, boots, and rings, leaving him in just a tunic, breeches, and stockinged feet. He went into the small kitchen that adjoined to the living quarters that had belonged to his grandparents. He had very few memories of his grandmother, yet he knew she had loved to cook for his grandfather. They hadn’t often had meals alone. But whenever they did, Thorin remembered his grandfather had been happier for it.

And he remembered the times he’d spent in the kitchen with his own mother. His father did not think it was a wise decision for the prince and heir to learn how to cook (at least some of the basics) but Thorin hadn’t cared. It was a time he’d always treasured for it gave him the opportunity to spend with his mother outside his royal duties as second in line to the throne of Erebor.

Since Azanulbizar, he hadn’t had many opportunities to practice his cooking skills. Most thought it was something beneath him, and generally, he agreed. Yet he still found time to cook. If only to remember some of the better times of his long life.

He was so busy enjoying himself in the kitchen that he did not notice someone join him. Everything was almost ready for when Donnabelle arrived back from wherever she was and he stuck his right little finger into the arsaslam juices to see if it tasted good. Bring his finger to his lips, he turned around just as he licked his finger clean. He stopped with his finger in his mouth as he spotted Donnabelle at the door of the kitchen.

He pulled his finger out of his mouth and felt heat rise in his cheeks. “How long have you been standing there?”

Donnabelle shrugged slightly as her eyes focused on the stew pot on the stove. “You cooked for me?” Her voice was soft and filled with wonder.

“Yes,” he answered hesitantly.

She sniffed and her lower lip trembled. “No one’s ever cooked just for me before.”

Thorin frowned slightly, trying to work out the significance of that statement. “Did I do something wrong?”

She shook her head. Then she moved so quickly that Thorin didn’t really have time to brace himself for him to support her weight. Her arms were around his neck and she was burying her face in the crook of his neck. “Âkminrûk zu, kurdula.”

He wrapped his arms around her and breathed in her scent. “You are welcome, marlelê.” He pulled back and gave her a tender smile. “I thought you would prefer if we ate in here tonight.” He leaned down and planted a soft kiss on her cheek.

She released him and nodded. Wiping her eyes, she looked between Thorin and the stove before she had to cover her mouth. “You don’t know what it means to me to have someone I love cook a meal…”

“I think I do,” Thorin responded and took a hold of her cheeks. He wiped her tears away with the pads of his thumbs. Leaning down, he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. He released her and dished up two plates of the arsaslam. Handing her one of the plates, he directed her out to the fireplace.

There was an affectionate smile on his face as he watched her eat the meal he’d so often made with his mother. And he was glad that she nearly inhaled the plate. He ate slower, yet with just as much enthusiasm. 

“It’s a hobbit courting tradition,” Donnabelle said suddenly as she placed her empty bowl on the floor in front of her. Thorin paused with his spoon halfway to his mouth. “To prepare your favourite food for just you and your intended.”

He raised an eyebrow at that and ate his next spoonful. “I did not know that.”

“It’s how my parents fell in love. Or so my mother told me.”

“The arsaslam is something I used to make with my mother. Before she died.” He finished off his plate and placed it beside her empty bowl.

“Is that what it’s called?” Donnabelle asked. “She taught you well.” Biting her lower lip, she gave him a shy smile and teased, “I did not know kings could cook.”

He returned her smile and shifted closer to her. “Usually, they don’t. But I did not want to skip on my lessons within the kitchen. Those memories I have cooking with my mother are some of the fondest memories I have of my childhood.” He wrapped his arm around her and leaned his head against hers. “You’ve never had anyone cook for you?”

“Not like you’ve done tonight.”

“Should I do it again?”

She looked at him shyly and nodded her head.

“Would you like some more?”

Her smile grew slightly and she nodded her head again. And Thorin felt his heart swell at that. Though he hadn’t meant it to be anything other than sustenance, he found that he’d enjoyed cooking the simple meal for them to enjoy together. So what if it also happened to be a hobbit courting tradition at the same time?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Khuzdul translations:  
> “Âkminrûk zu” is “it would please me to give you thanks.”  
> “Kurdula” is “my heart of all hearts”  
> “Marlelê” is “my love of all loves”  
> “Arsaslam” is a meal that is like the Jewish **Cholent** that is a stew of meat, potatoes, beans, barley, carrots and eggs. (I googled ‘dwarrow food’ and found this on the Dwarrow Scholar).


	3. Lullaby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fifteen years after the Battle of the Five Armies, Thorin arrives home to spend time with his family

Thorin Oakenshield, King under the Mountain, was exhausted.  In the fifteen years since the reclaiming of Erebor, a lot had changed for the dwarves that lived under his rule.  It was no different for the royals either.

Donnabelle and Dís helped shape many of the current laws that encouraged dwarrow to procreate before it was too late to save their dying race.  And Thorin was glad for that incentive within Erebor; there were more families journeying from the other mountains to live in Erebor.  Some of the dwarrow expressed an interest in taking a spouse from other races, as there was a lot more open-mindedness toward that.  Not that many dwarves actually married outside their race yet.  But there was just enough change for him to ‘officially’ take Donnabelle as his wife five years after the Battle of Five Armies.

Thorin smiled at Fíli across the hallway that connected all of the chambers within the Royal Wing just as he was about to step into the King’s royal quarters he shared with his own wife and two daughters.  The quarters consisted of the king’s bedchamber, the consort’s bedchamber, a third bedchamber the two princesses shared, a washroom, a kitchen and a living and dining room.  In all technicality, the third bedchamber was supposed to be a nursery (as the princesses were entitled to their own rooms next to the king and consort’s rooms just off the main hallway) and Donnabelle never used the consort’s room adjoining his private chamber.  They had tried sleeping in separate beds after the company found out that Donnabelle had survived the Battle, but neither got a decent night’s sleep.  They soon realized they slept better when they shared a bed and could reassure themselves that the other was still alive and with them.

The once dark-haired king (Balin and Dwalin laughed their heads off when Thorin quickly went from his dark locks to predominately silver-grey) sniffed the air and hummed in appreciation.  He could tell that someone was in the final stages of preparing dinner.  From what he could smell, his wife was making his favourite: roasted venison with pumpkin and potatoes.  And could he smell blueberry pie and cookies?

The smile that had been on his face when he first arrived home widened.  What did he do to deserve all of his favourite foods in one night?

He moved into the bedchamber he shared with his wife and stripped off all his royal garb and boots so he wore a light shirt, breeches and socks.  It was something that Donnabelle insisted he do back when she’d ‘returned’ from the dead and they got down to actually living like a married couple.  Whenever he was ‘home’ for the evening and wasn’t expecting to be called out for another meeting, he was to take everything that he wore that declared him king (except his braids) off and in their bedroom.  She explained that she wanted the Thorin Oakenshield of their journey to be the person she spent the evenings with; she fell in love with the leader and the man behind the crown and she felt he didn’t _need_ those things that he wore as king when they were alone.  Neither of them would actually _forget_ he was the king.

At first, he struggled with the dual roles he played and it did take him time to truly leave all his cares and concerns at the door when he was alone in their chambers with Donnabelle.  But after months of learning to leave the day’s worries at the door and learning to live in the moment, Thorin found it liberating.  Without all the garments and jewellery that went with his office, the dwarf found that he could forget his responsibilities as king for the evening and focus on his greater responsibility: his wife (and later daughters.)  He found that it gave him the chance to be a husband, friend and father.

Padding through the living area, Thorin made his way to the kitchen where he was sure he would find his wife.  He heard voices waffling through the closed door and smiled again.  It sounded like his three favourite people were in the kitchen together.  He opened the door as quietly as he could and leaned against the door frame to take in the sight of Donnabelle teaching Florís and Irís how to bake cookies.

“Like this, Mama?” Irís asked as she rolled a ball out of the small amount of cookie dough she had in her hand.  Florís and Irís both called Donnabelle by the hobbit title of ‘mama’ instead of the dwarrow term ‘amad’ to honour their mother’s Shire roots.  Donnabelle hadn’t forced the issue and would have been happy to answer to either name (as she had grown accustomed to answering to ‘imad’ whenever Fíli and Kíli addressed her.)  But Thorin could see the thrill on his wife’s face whenever their daughters chose to call her by the more familiar term of ‘mama’.

“Exactly like that, my flower,” Donnabelle returned.  Irís had a big grin on her face.  She was the younger of the two princesses at 7 and took more after her mother in appearance, yet had more of Thorin’s personality.  Florís, at 12, looked more like her father and had more of her mother’s personality.  Each child placed their rolled cookie on the baking tray and took some more dough.  Donnabelle, Thorin noticed, could roll three balls for every one that their girls did.  Oh, he could not get enough of watching the three of them work together.  If Thorin could, he’d leave all his kingly duties behind and solely spend the time with his wife and daughters all day.

“Do you think Adad will like them?” Florís asked.

“I’m sure he will love them and the blueberry pie you helped me bake.  Especially when he learns that you and Irís made them just for him.”  There was a tender smile on Donnabelle’s face when she spoke.  “Now that the tray is full, go wash your hands.  Both of you.  Adad will be home soon and he’ll be wanting to hear all about your days.”

“Yes Mama,” both dwobbits answered and turned to race off to the washroom.  Their eyes widened when they caught sight of their father at the kitchen door.  He had a smile on his face and there was laughter in his eyes when he could see both girls wanting to hug him yet he also knew they wouldn’t when their hands were covered in raw dough.

“Go wash up, and then you can hug me,” he told them gently.  He moved so that they could get past.  “Men lananubukhs menu,” Thorin added as they brushed past him.  They smiled up at him and he watched them disappear in the direction of the washroom.  He turned back to Donnabelle with a small grin on his face.

“How long have you been standing there?” she asked as she moved to the kitchen sink to wash her own hands.

“Long enough.”  Thorin strode across the small space and took a hold of one of her hands before she could put them under the water.  His grin turned into a smirk as he leaned down.  Bringing her fingers up to his lips, he began to methodically clean each finger with his mouth.  He watched as a rosy pink began to show itself on her cheeks.

“Don’t let the girls see,” she whispered, yet still offered him her other hand for him to ‘clean’.  He made quick work of cleaning her second hand and he couldn’t stop a small moan of appreciation escape him.  It wasn’t often Donnabelle allowed him to clean her hands in such a way.  Just as he released her last finger from his mouth, their girls were back, clamouring for their father’s attention.

Thorin planted a kiss on Donnabelle’s forehead before he allowed his girls to take hold of one of his hands each.  Or in the case of Irís, his index finger.  He’d learnt his younger daughter preferred wrapping her small hand around his much larger finger and it never ceased to put a smile in his heart.  Florís had been like that too when she was younger.  They pulled on his hands and they led him into the living area as they told him of their day.  And he thanked Mahal for the three precious gifts he’d been given and the strength he received from just being allowed in their lives.

“Adad,” Irís said just as Donnabelle called them to the table not long afterward.  “Mama told me a secret today.”

“Really?” Thorin asked and raised a curious eyebrow.  “Am I allowed to know it?”

The seven-year-old pursed her lips, wondering if she was supposed to say anything to her father about the big secret.  She looked to her mother just as Donnabelle sat in her seat.  The hobbit smiled and said, “Tell Adad after dinner.”  Thorin felt a thrill go through him each time Donnabelle referred to him as ‘father’.  He knew she only did it in front of the children and every time he heard the term (especially from his One’s lips), it filled him with pride.

Dinners, it seemed, were the only times the royal family got to spend quality time together.  It was the only time during the day that Thorin tried to set aside for just ‘them’ without the pressures of court.  It did not always happen because of some emergency or there was a state function that Thorin (and quite often Donnabelle) could not delegate to someone else and they had to attend.  But most weeks, the family had at least four meals together.

And if anyone asked Thorin, he would say those times with just his immediate family were the highlights of his week.  That wasn’t to say he didn’t enjoy the monthly dinners the original company had with their families (as did the others that had journeyed to reclaim Erebor), but those dinners could not compare with the times he was allowed to be just ‘Thorin’ or ‘adad’.

When dinner was over and they were almost finished with dessert, Thorin could see that Irís was desperate to share with him the secret Donnabelle had shared with her.  He finished his last mouthful of delicious pie and turned his attention to his youngest child.

“So,” he began.  “What is this secret your mama shared with you?”  He leaned toward her before he pulled back slightly.  “It won’t hurt me, will it?” he asked with a hint of teasing.

“No, Adad!” Irís laughed.  “Don’t be silly!  Mama said I’m going to be a zanid namad!”

Thorin blinked and couldn’t focus on what his daughter was saying.  Irís was going to be a big sister?  He looked up at Donnabelle and his wife nodded.  That was the first real confirmation for either of them that her pregnancy was real: both had known for several weeks yet did not want to admit it, either to themselves or to the other.  The last two times they’d tried for another mizimith, Donnabelle had lost the child within the first three months.  He knew he’d acted more protective of her over the last few weeks because of that and she allowed him to.  But to admit aloud that Donnabelle was expecting again spread a warmth throughout the dwarrow.  It gave him hope that this time, things would work out.  Turning back to Irís, he heard her say she wanted a nadadith but she didn’t mind if it was a namadith either.  And then Thorin had his arms full with a seven-year-old and her arms were thrown around his neck.

“Thank you, Adad.”

“For what?”

“For helping make me a big sister.”  Irís pulled back and frowned.  “Where will you and Mama get my nadad or namad from?  Mama wouldn’t tell me.  She said that it would be in another eight months until we get to meet them.  That’s _ages_ away!”

Thorin raised his eyebrow and looked over his daughter’s head to where Florís was quietly giggling and Donnabelle was trying to hide her smile.  He did a quick calculation in his head.  That meant Donnabelle was four months pregnant, well past the time she’d lost the others. 

Nodding his head to the living area, Thorin easily stood with Irís kept securely in his arms.  When the dwarf moved, Florís jumped down from the table and moved to her father’s side.  She threaded her hand in his and smiled up at him.  Thorin returned the smile.  He knew she’d never willingly take his hand when they were out in the wider Erebor community or even when they were in the presence of any of the company.

He knew he was like that too.  He’d only show affection for his family in the privacy of their quarters (or if it was Donnabelle, only around certain people).  Yet he knew he’d treasure all the times Florís _wanted_ to show him because one day, he knew that she wouldn’t be as keen.

Thorin moved to the settee with the two girls and sat in the middle with Florís on his right and Irís on his lap, resting her head on his shoulder.  He wrapped his right arm around his twelve-year-old and felt her snuggle into his side.  Placing a kiss on her forehead and then on Irís’s, Thorin looked up and caught Donnabelle smiling at the three of them; her hands were folded over their unborn child.  He returned her smile and looked down at their daughters contently resting against him.  It wasn’t often that the two girls got a change to relax in their father’s arms and they both decided that they would take the opportunity that presented itself.

He took a deep breath in before he released it.  Oh, he loved these nights when it was just him and his ‘girls’.  “Irís has asked a very important question: where will your new baby nadad or namad come from.  Do you know, Florís?”  The twelve-year-old looked up and she shook her head.  “You want to know something?”  Both girls nodded.  “I didn’t either when my amad told me about Dís.  And do you want to know what she told me?”  Thorin could tell both his daughters were interested in what he was about to tell them.  By the look of it, so was Donnabelle, and with good reason: Thorin rarely spoke of his childhood.

“My amad told me that mamas have a very special place inside their bellies where babies are put to be protected and where the babies feel safe.  It’s a place where the baby can grow big and strong so when it’s time, they are ready to meet everyone.  And that’s where your baby nadad or namad is right now.  Your mama is protecting them until they’re ready to meet you.”

“The baby’s in Mama’s tummy?” Irís asked.

“Yes, mizimith.”

“And do we _really_ have to wait eight months to meet them?” Florís asked.

“Is that how long Mama said we’ll have to wait?” their father asked and the girls nodded against him.  “Then, I wouldn’t argue with her.  We’ll have to wait eight months.”

Irís stuck out her lower lip.  “But I wanna meet him now!”

“I’m sorry, mizimith,” Thorin soothed.  “We can’t meet him yet.  You do want the baby to be big and strong like you, don’t you?”  The little girl nodded.  “Then we need to be patient.  The little one will be here soon enough.”

He looked down at his two girls and pulled them both tighter to him.  His seven-year-old threaded her fingers in his hair and he felt his lips tug upward.  She reminded him of a full-grown hobbit that also liked threading her fingers in his hair, especially when she was tired.  Donnabelle particularly enjoyed holding onto his marriage braid as she slept.

Thorin began to hum and then softly sing a lullaby in Khuzdul.

_“Dezeb’aban mahtarraki undubuzrâ id’abad_

_Baraz’aban tamhari ina tazlifîn id’khazâd_

_Danakh’aban tanlikhi aya uzbâd id’kalmu, uzbâd id’kalmu_

_Khagal’aban jalataglimi aya bâhazunsh id’aguh_

_Lai’ – ‘ibinê mim tanniki azhâr dê_

_Lai’ – ‘ibinê mim tanniki azhâr dê.”_

 

Life, he thought, couldn’t get better than this.  He began the lullaby again, with Donnabelle joining her voice to his.  She sang in Westron.

 

_“Little diamond buried in the mountain deep_

_Little ruby burning while all the dwarrows sleep_

_Little emerald shining in the crown of kings, In the crown of kings_

_Little sapphire gleaming on the raven’s wings_

_Look – my little gem comes home to me_

_Look - my little gem comes home to me.”_

 

He wasn’t surprised by the time the two of them had sung the song through a second time both of their daughters were sound asleep.  That didn’t stop him from humming the tune and pulling both girls closer still. 

The king was almost asleep as well when there was a soft knock at the door.  “Whoever it is,” Thorin said with a soft rumble.  “Tell them to go away.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: The lullaby sung by Donnabelle and Thorin in this is entitled: _'Ibinê mim_ and can be found on YouTube. It is sung by a woman named Gina Rose found at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hkO2lfw-mn4
> 
>  **Other Khuzdul used in this chapter:**  
>  “Men lananubukhs menu” translates as ‘I love you’  
> ‘mizimith’ is ‘little gem’  
> ‘adad’ is father  
> ‘amad’ is mother  
> ‘imad’ is aunt  
> ‘nadad’ is brother  
> ‘namad’ is sister  
> ‘namadith’ is little sister  
> ‘nadadith’ is little brother  
> ‘zanid namad’ is big sister


	4. Welcome to the World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin and Donnabelle welcome their youngest child into the world...

Irís, daughter of Thorin Oakenshield and Donnabelle Baggins, ran through the halls of Erebor barefooted and out of breath.  Her long, golden locks were braided and landed halfway down her back.  Her bright blue eyes that usually sparkled with mischief were filled with worry.

Her older sister, Florís, was the opposite.  Her almost midnight black hair flowed to sit just below her shoulder blades.  Her blue-green eyes, usually filled with a hard edge, had a sudden sparkle to them.  She wore shoes specially designed for her to look feminine, yet were still sturdy enough for her to run around in.

The pair of them were headed to the throne room where they were sure to find their father.  Both knew they were not supposed to disturb their father while he was busy doing ‘king’ stuff.  They also knew that he accepted their interruption if it was an emergency.

And today, they knew he would want to be interrupted.

Irís wasn’t really watching where she was going and around the last bend, just before the doors to the throne room, she ran into Balin.  She fell backwards onto her backside.  Florís skidded to a halt just as Balin reached down to offer her namadith a hand up.

“Where are you two off to in such a hurry?” the old advisor asked.

“We’re looking for Adad,” Irís responded.  “Do you know where he is?”

“He’s in an important meeting right now.  Perhaps I could help?”

“Unless you’re our Adad,” Florís responded with a cheeky grin that reminded Balin so much of her mother, “no, you can’t.  Mama sent us for him.”

“It wasn’t Mama.”

“No, you’re right.  It was the healer that told us to find Adad.  Mama sent us for the healer.”  Balin raised an eyebrow.  Florís was nearly bouncing on her feet as she added, “Mama said we’ll meet the baby today.”

The advisor swallowed and nodded.  “Worthy reason for interrupting your father.  Come with me.”  He led the two girls to Thorin’s conference room.  He was in the middle of a heated discussion with one of the dwarrow guilds.  Fíli, Dís and Orí were also in the conference room with Thorin.

The king looked up as he spotted his daughters enter the room behind Balin.  He frowned at the two of them and sent Balin a questioning glance.  The advisor approached Thorin and leant down to whisper in his ear.

Thorin sat up straighter and turned sharply to look at his long-time friend.  The frown he wore turned to confusion and hope.  Most of the dwarrow sitting at the conference table noticed Thorin’s inattention and the three newcomers.  Thorin beaconed his two daughters to him and he looked at them expectantly.  Florís grinned widely and moved to whisper in the King’s ear.  Thorin found himself grinning right back at his first born and then took his younger daughter’s worry in.

He reached out and quickly ran his fingers over each of his daughters’ cheeks.  “She’ll be fine, and so will our mizimith,” he told them softly.  Raising his gaze, he caught Balin’s eyes.

“Go,” Balin said with a slight indication with his head.  “We’ll watch them.”  The snowy-haired advisor had a smile on his face that matched Thorin’s.  Thorin moved so quickly out of the chamber that the other dwarrow were surprised the old dwarf could move so fast.  Dís looked over at the two girls and gave them a wide grin.  She figured out why the two of them had interrupted the meeting and why her brother was so quick to leave without a ‘by your leave’.

Balin smiled after the retreating king and turned to the guild members.  “Meeting adjourned.  We will need to reschedule.”

“What is so important that takes precedence over this meeting?”

Dís turned on the guild member that asked that and narrowed her eyes.  “Do you expect Thorin to ignore his wife when she needs him?”

“She should know better than to interrupt an important meeting.”

“Imad,” Irís said, moving to her aunt’s side.  Dís turned to the seven-year-old.  “Don’t these stone heads know that Mama wouldn’t interrupt Adad’s meetings unless it was real important?”

Fíli’s lips jerked upward slightly and schooled his features back into a blank expression.

“What could be _so_ important that she’d send the two brats?”

Florís growled and felt a firm hand on her shoulder.  Balin’s expression darkened, as did Dís’, Fíli’s and Ori’s.

“We will expect an announcement on the new prince or princess at the end of the week,” Balin responded shortly.  “Now, if you will excuse us, Queen Donnabelle needs our support.”

**S.O.A.D.K.**

Thorin had one of his arms around Donnabelle.  He planted a kiss on her damp forehead.  In her arms, she held their new daughter against her breast.

“She’s beautiful, Marlelê.”

“Yeah?” Donnabelle asked as she softly ran her finger along their daughter’s cheek.  “So’s he.”  Nodding her head, she indicated to the babe nestled in the crook of his other arm.  The tiny boy moved his fists and turned his head toward his father’s chest.  His little heart-shaped mouth opened and closed.  He began mewling and again shifted his head toward Thorin’s broad chest.

Moving his arm from around his wife, Thorin offed his small son his smallest finger to suck.  The boy latched onto the very tip and began sucking.  Donnabelle smiled slightly and returned her attention to the baby nursing at her breast.  The little girl seemed to have had her fill so Donnabelle detached their daughter and held her up to Thorin.

“Swap?”

Thorin smiled slightly, removed his finger from their son’s greedy mouth, and allowed Donnabelle to settle their daughter in his now free arm.  He then looked awkwardly between the two new-borns, trying to work out how to hand their son over.

The little boy began mewling again, searching for food.  Donnabelle bit her lip and shifted so she could reach out and gather their boy in her arms.  Soon both children were settled in their new places and the boy was hungrily devouring his meal.  Thorin had gratified half-smile on his face as he watched his wife feed their son.

She looked up at him and shook her head, yet she too had a contented look on her face.  Her gaze shifted back down to the boy in her arms.  Gently, she stroked the babe’s face.  “I was thinking Frérin, son of Thorin, has a nice ring to it.”  She looked up and saw Thorin swallow around a sudden lump in his throat.  He nodded.

“Frérin,” he agreed.  Looking down at the little girl in his own arms, Thorin traced the small figures of one perfectly crafted hand.  He brought the tiny hand to his lips and kissed it.  “Drís.”

“That’s perfect for her.”

Thorin leaned over and planted another kiss on Donnabelle’s forehead.  “I think there a few people who want to meet these two precious treasures,” he whispered.  He saw her smile just as Frérin finished feeding.  She lifted the boy up to her shoulder and readjusted her clothing.  “I’ll be back with our daughters.”  The king left their suite with Drís firmly held against his chest.  The small girl had fallen asleep against him.  He saw his family gathered outside in the living area and he smiled.

“Do we have a new brother or sister, Adad?”

The man knelt down so that Florís and Irís could see the sleeping child in his arms.  “This is Drís.  She’s very tired right now.”

“A new sister?” Florís asked.  Thorin nodded.  “May we hold her?”

“When she’s awake.  Now, there is something that I need you both to do for your mama and me.”

Irís frowned.  “What, Adad?”

“We’re going to need your help.  You see, Mama is very tired and it will be a very big help to us if you help us look after Drís… and her brother.”

Florís and Irís both looked up at their father to see if he was teasing them.  He gave them a reassuring smile to let them know he wasn’t.

“Nadad?”

Thorin looked up at the rest of his gathered family and he nodded.  “Would you like to meet Frérin?”

Dís covered her mouth as she breathed, “Twins?”

“Yes.  Donnabelle wanted to keep it a secret until we could introduce them to you.”

“You have a son?” Fíli asked.

Thorin stood and moved to his oldest nephew’s side.  He reached out and gently laid his forehead on the young dwarf’s forehead.  “You are still my heir, Fíli.  Nothing will change that unless you want me to.”

Fíli nodded and sniffed.  “But your son…”

“Could be your heir, if you want it to be.  I will not take the throne from you.”

Those gathered around the pair smiled, and soon Thorin pulled back from his heir.  He smiled at his family and asked, “Shall we meet the youngest member of the family?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "namadith" is 'little sister'  
> 'mizimith' is 'little gem'  
> 'nadad' is 'brother'


End file.
